Pansy

``I bet that you can't bench press three hundred pounds. You look so scrawny even my ol' grandma can whoop your ass.'' Loud hoots could be heard from all around the gym as Victor jeered at Franklin.

``Shuddap, you stupid fukker,'' Franklin replied, flexing his arms as he did so. ``Only pansy boys needa insult odders ta feel good 'bout 'emselves. Now, shuddap and take de mashine. You wanna bet dat I can't do it, firs' show ya can do it yaself, foo'.'' More hooting could be heard about. Someone even yelled out ``shots fired!'' somewhere from the back.

It wasn't an ordinary gym, and it wasn't an ordinary insult being tossed about. Victor and Franklin were from two different groups of body builders who trained at the same gym, and for the most part, they kept to themselves. But ever so often, some crazy rivalry comes up and they end up trying to compete to see who can lift some weight at some machine the best. It was harmless fun with a twinge of dangerous sounding rivalry only because most of the members are testosterone-filled males.

Victor flexed his arms and said ``Alright then, watch and learn, you pansy.''

Victor set the weight on the benchpress machine to the three-hundred pound mark and lay on his back on the bench in front of it, wiggling a little here and there to get into a comfortable and stable position. He gripped the handles, and huffed as he pushed the weights up.

``ONE!'' The gym yelled. The bar went back down, and Victor huffed again and heaved.

``TWO!'' The gym counted off again. The weights went back down, and Victor took in several breaths before pushing it off again.

``THR--!'' The bar didn't make it to the top like last time and Victor dropped it back down, the metal weights clanking loudly.

``Oi! Don't bang the damn weights you punks!'' The gym leader shouted from his counter. ``I don't care what kind of game you folks are playing, but don't break any of my stuff.''

Victor breathed rapidly as Franklin looked on at him, bemused.

``Dat's all ya can do? Damn you have a big mouth. My turn, ya pansy. Also, rea' men use a barbell, not the pansy-ass mashine.'' More hoots and whoops were heard from the crowd as Franklin made his way to the bench press station and loaded up three hundred pounds of weight on the bar bell. ``Spot me, you pansy.'' Victor nodded grudgingly and took his place behind the bar bell.

Franklin lay flat on his back and got into a comfortable position. With an overhand grip, he pushed the bar bell out of its resting position, and started to heave it into the air.

``ONE!'' The gym yelled. The bar went down, and Franklin effortlessly pushed it back up.

``TWO!'' The gym continued. The bar went back down, and Franklin still didn't look winded as the veins on his exposed arms were throbbing under the weight.

``THREE!'' The gym was getting hyped out. Franklin had already won, that's for sure. But he didn't stop there. He went on for another three repetitions before putting the bar back on to its resting spot, and stared at the amazed look on Victor's face as he breathed heavily.

``And that's how you do a bench press, you dummy.''

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 2014-03-24 10:23:27)